TREASURE HUNTING
by
Lynn Rishworth

Desperation. I can only think it was desperation that had Sally even thinking of leaving a child with me for the Bank Holiday. ‘Well,’ I told myself ‘what can’t be cured must be endured’ and immediately felt guilty and explained to myself that I wasn’t meaning to suggest that looking after the boy would be a tiresome challenge or anything.

Jordan (people seem blissfully unaware that jordan is another word for gazunder) was duly dropped off on Friday night. A very sheepish Steven (I clouldn’t see Sally in the car) told me that “He’s had supper. Don’t let him stay up late.” He stopped speaking but was evidently not finished. Eyes skyward, slight frown of concentration, lips readied for speech; he looked like a contestant on a game show. If he didn’t remember the last bit of the answer, he’d lose… what? “Ah! And” I felt disproportionately relieved for him then, like the kid in Chariots of Fire, he stopped. I gave what I hoped was an encouraging rather than inquisitional look. “I’m sure you know how to feed children - people. I don’t think you’ll poison him.” So; whatever Sally’s last instruction was, it never got passed on.

“Come on then, Jordan,” I extended an arm in a general gesture of welcome. He did not have to be embraced unless he wanted to. “Is that your bag?” He took the hint and brought his Junior Explorer rucksack indoors. He was about to deposit it in the kitchen doorway when I said “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” We watched a wildlife programme on telly then he said he was tired and went to bed unbidden. After a few minutes, I went to check that he was ok. I could hear him sobbing before I got to the door, which I tapped on lightly but didn’t open.

“You ok, Jordan?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

Old people and children get up at silly o’clock. Apparently. Fortunately for the two of us, neither Jordan nor I conformed to that notion. He scurried into the kitchen, still pulling on his hoody, as I was filling the kettle.

“Have I missed breakfast?”

“Um” I glanced at the kitchen clock, “you’re just in time for brunch, I’d say. How about a ba… are you vegetarian?” He blushed.

“Well, I ama vegetarian at home but sometimes I have to have meat with school dinner. The…”

“That’s fine. Bacon sandwich, then? With tomatoes?”

“TOMATOES?”

“Ok, then; how about cowboy breakfast – beans on toast with bacon. Did you know that beans count as one of your five portions?” He laughed.

“How can baked beans be one of your portions?”

I was about to answer that question when an image flashed across my mind of Jordan telling his mum that “Aunty Bronwen says that baked beans…” and the ensuing unpleasantness could be imagined.

“Well, I count them as one of mine.” I gave him what I hoped was a conspiratorial smile and we enjoyed our ‘cowboy breakfast.’

The rest of the day was a good deal more challenging. It rained. Just a light drizzle and not cold but Jordan was unconvinced by my assertion that “we’re not made of sugar, we shan’t dissolve.” I tried personfully to amuse him and he tried his best to be patient. We both claimed tiredness and dashed for the sanctuary of our respective beds quite early. I sat for a while with a book open on my knee, thinking about how to amuse the child. After 27minutes and no page turned, I put the book aside and, trusting that Jordan would wake at a similar hour again tomorrow, set my radio-alarm.

JCB woke me at the requisite hour with a delightful piece for oboe (or maybe it had been written for flute and transcribed). I showered and dressed as quietly as I could then slipped out to the garden shed with my pencil case in my hand. I slipped a note in a fairly conspicuous but obviously ‘hidden’ place. Back to the kitchen and, since it was Sunday, I made a pot of proper coffee. The delicious aroma seemed to have the desired effect when I opened the door and let it waft up the stairs. Jordan came down a little while later and, over toast and home-made marmalade, I told him that I’d made a treasure hunt for him.

“With a map? Like the pirate film?”

“No. With clues to be solved. You solve the first clue and it takes you to the second one…”

“That takes you to the third one?”

“You’ve got it!”

“How many clues are there?”

“Well, you d… ok, there’s five. Five if you count the first and last ones, the treasure itself and the one I’m about to give you. First clue: you’d have to be blind to miss it.” It didn’t take him long to find the shed key tied to the cord of the kitchen window blind. He loved that it was a very old key, even a little ornate. I gave him some help to work out it must be the shed. I was still getting my shoes laced up when he called out that he’d found it. I trotted down the garden path, all ready to help him with the next clue. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted by.

“That’s rubbish!”

“What is?”

“Your silly clue. Anyway, the museum won’t be open on a Sunday.”

“Museum?” I asked, “How did you get ‘museum’ from ‘do the flowers need watering?’ eh?”

He thrust a rather grubby piece of paper at me and flounced into the house.

“Jordan, where did you find this?”

“In the old box where you hid it.”

“No. My clue was in with the seed packets.” He handed me the piece of paper with the mysterious writing on it and looked at me suspiciously. “What do you suppose this is all about, Jordan? I wonder how long it’s been in that old box.” He peered over my shoulder.

“What you seek is in the Pottston Museum. Look for the man who will take away your pains.”

Pottston’s ‘living museum’ was by no means on a par with, say, Beamish but it followed that general model. They’d be foolish not to open when most people were looking for somewhere to spend their money so, off we went.

“A dentist, Jordan, do you think he might be ‘the man to take away one’s pains’ eh?”

“Hmmm, I dunno.”

“Well, I think we should leave no stone un-turned.” I had to explain that one to him as we climbed the stairs to the Victorian dentist’s surgery.

“Torture room, more like” was another visitor’s assessment and we all laughed.

“How will we know when we’ve found the clue, Bronwen?”

Feeling strangely grateful for the absence of ‘aunty’ I showed him the first clue again. “Look, it’s written on the back of a poster or advert for something. My guess is that the clues forma jig-saw puzzle which gives you the last clue.” He looked perplexed so I explained in a bit more detail. There didn’tseem to be anything at the dentist’s or the ‘snake oil’ man’s emporium. As we walked toward the – obviously private – doctor’s surgery, I explained about how people had to pay for seeing the doctor before the NHS and did my best to answer “what if poor people got sick and they didn’t have any money?” without political bias. We didn’t find any clues there either.

“So, Jordan, who else cures one’s pains?”

“Dunno.”

“Well, there’s only the pub or the church left. Shall we try the church?” I didn’t anticipate an enthusiastic response so I simply bustled in and the boy had to follow. I was kneeling in prayer by the time he caught up. As I stood up, I knocked a prayer-book to the floor and, as I picked it up, sometnhing fell out of it.

“It’s a” I put a finger to my lips “it’s a clue!” He whispered triumphantly.

The clue led us to a cafe conveniently on the route home so we stopped there for tea. We clouldn’t see any clues and were beginning to become despondent. I tried the ladies’ loo – no joy. So I sent Jordan to the gents. He came back with a glum expression but then, suddenly, brightened and pointed to where the usual flyers and leaflets were near the door. There it was. Unmistakeably a piece of our jigsaw. We put the three pieces together on the cafe table.

“There’s only one piece missing! We must be nearly there!” Jordan, thank goodness, was really getting into the swing of this.

“Come on then, what’s the clue?” He turned over the piece of paper with admirable dramatic effect.

“It says ‘throw out a line, someone is drowning. Meg and her sisters are watching.’ It must be at the seaside!” Oh, the double joy of solving a clue and the promise of a day at the seaside. I don’t know which of us was more thrilled.

I explained to Jordan that ‘Meg and her Sisters’ was a group of rocks just off the coast. I told him that they were made of harder rock than what had been around them and so, when the water and the weather had worn away the other stuff, they had not been worn away. They still stood there, with their feet in the water. I also told him the legend that gave them their names.

“But that’s not the truth, is it?”

“It’s a poetic way of telling the truth, making it easier to remember. Meg and her sisters were stronger so they survived.”

The RNLI shop was closed so I popped a cheque through their letter-box. “But how are we gonna find the clue?” Jordan seemed genuinely upset.

“It might not be the RNLI.”

“Church again?” His expression suggested that his day was going rapidly downhill.

“Sort of. ‘Throw down a line, someone is drowning’ is a line from a temperance lifeboat song.” I held up a hand to stave off obvious questions and suggested he join the queue at the ice-cream van. I went to spend a penny and, on returning, I told him about the people who disapproved of alcohol and how they formed ‘pretend’ lifeboats to, as they saw it, save people and… well, I confess, I got a bit carried away. I started singing the song in question. Jordan’s embarrassed tug at my skirt stopped me. “It’s alright” I announced to the bemused/indignant fellow customers “I’m not really anti-alcohol.” They laughed and I pointed out to Jordan a building which had ‘Curlsea Temperance Hall’ inscribed in stone above the door. It was now an amusement arcade. Jordan was not allowed in amusement arcades.

“Maybe we won’t have to go in. I’ll talk to the lady at the door.” We approached the little kiosk where the lady magically turned money into tokens which, equally magically, vanished into thin air.

“Look, look, Bronwen, look!” Jordan was beside himself. The fourth quarter of our picture was stuck in the window of the kiosk.

“Oh,that,” the lady sounded a little nevous, which added to Jordan’s excitement. “It’s just a piece of scrap paper I found. I put it there in case I needed to write something down. Of course you can have it.”

Initially, Jordan was disappointed that there was nothing on the other side of the picture but I pointed out that “It means it’s the last clue. We put the pieces of the puzzle together and…” We did just that.

“Carr Wood Sculpture Trail!” I tried to sound surprised “I bet that’s a great place to go.”

“But will we find the treasure there?”

“I think that is the treasure.” He took a breath to speak. “Of course, we won’t be able to go there. School tomorrow. You’ll have to get your Mum or your Dad to take you there next week-end.”

I made no attempt to influence matters any further.